


Memories of Him

by SkitPojke



Category: Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: F/M, Ghost!JD, formatting got fucked sorry, idk how to fix it here oops, veronica sawyer didn't deserve all this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 11:27:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10535523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkitPojke/pseuds/SkitPojke
Summary: Veronica returns to Sherwood after three years.





	

Trying to ignore everything that happened was becoming increasingly difficult. Maybe after it first happened it was easier, she had Martha, and Heather then. Veronica decided on Stanford, the farthest from Sherwood Ohio the better. No matter how far she ran, he was still there. He was in every trench coat worn in rainy California, every goddamn 7/11, every loud boom that still made her jump. Yes, trying to ignore the memory of Jason Dean was becoming increasingly difficult.  


 

Veronica could get by most days, she was in a different state, she wasn’t visited by the ghosts of Heather, Kurt, or Ram quite as much. She was never visited by J.D, not by a physical him at least, just the memory of him. She’d been in school for two years already, and not once had she gone back home. Once she had gotten away she needed to stay away. It would all start again if she went back. Heather Chandler never did leave her alone in Sherwood, but she kept her mouth shut at Stanford. Despite her reservations though, Veronica knew deep down she wanted to go back, just once.  


 

She clenched her fists on her knees as she gazed out the plane window over her home state. Her eyes closed tight and she sucked in a shaky breath. It had taken her three years to come back and even now it seemed too soon. Sherwood looked the same, the same tri-county mall, the same old park, the same Westerberg. Driving through town, Veronica managed to not throw up, which is always a success. Every place she was, though, left her with a sense of panic and dread, every place had a reminder. The hall closet upstairs where she faked her death to throw JD off loomed in front of her as she quickly rushed past it. Her room stayed in its original state, barer now if anything since her move, but the same. Veronica fell face first onto her mattress, closing her eyes and staying silently in that spot. A tap tap tap came at her window and she shot up immediately, hands shaking and eyes wide. It couldn’t be him, she knew that, but panic shot through her veins like ice water all the same. She moved slowly towards the window, throwing back the curtains and shaking her head when she saw it, a tree branch blowing in the wind and occasionally tapping against the glass. Her shoulders slumped as she sunk into the chair at her desk, dropping her head into her hands. Three years and he still had a hold on her.  


 

Willing herself to finally leave her parent’s house, Veronica decided on walk through town to get settled. Heather Chandler’s house, close to Veronica's family home, was deserted, her family left Sherwood one day without a word to anyone. Something red appeared in the corner of her eye, and there she was, Heather Chandler, looking over at Veronica. Three years and she looked the same, seventeen years old for eternity. Heather had her arms crossed over her chest and she turned her eyes back to her house.  


 

“It’s so boring here now,’ she said dryly, and Veronica could see the blue drain cleaner that stained her mouth. “Heather and Heather both left,” she looked to her right again, “and you, and no one here even remembers the me you made up”.  


 

Veronica fidgeted with the hem of her sweater, looking straight ahead. She knew Heather would be by, she was expecting this. She kept her mouth shut, despite the questions she wanted to ask.  


 

“Oh, you’re wondering if he stuck around?” Heather took her silence as an answer. “Sometimes,” was the only thing Heather said. She had her hand outstretched, studying her nails. She sighed dramatically, as she always did before. "You're boring me now too".  


 

Veronica could see her walking away and she didn’t try to stop her, she’d be back anyway to offer irritating commentary again. “Sometimes” the word was replaying in her mind. JD had kept to Sherwood, for the most part.  


 

He was buried in the back of some cemetery, just his name and birthdate and death date carved in the stone; Veronica knew this much. His father couldn’t have left town faster. Veronica never visited, and part of her feels guilty for that. She was going now. Every muscle in her body was tense, but she kept walking. She had her fists at her side and she was biting at her bottom lip nervously. By the time she found his grave, the sun was going down. She sat cross legged on the grass in front of the tombstone, staring just over the ridge of the marble. She didn’t even know she was crying until she felt the tears slide down past her chin, she only made a clumsy swipe at her face, not really wiping anything away.  


 

“Asshole,” she breathed into the stagnant summer air around her. It was all she could think to say. “You couldn’t have just turned the bomb off?” she smiled and looked up at the sky, tear coming down without her control now.  


 

“Well, the extreme always seems to make an impression,” this came from behind her, and she knew the voice immediately.  


 

She was frozen in her spot, not even daring to turn around, afraid that this was actually happening. She swallowed thickly before speaking, “Still quoting Baudelaire?” it's what he said when they had first met, something that drew her to him immediately.  


 

“Haven’t read much else since I’ve been dead,” that same sarcastic tone. He sat down next to her now and her breath hitched in her throat. A chill ran up her spine and she slowly looked over. Just like Heather, JD looked the same. His face was covered in black soot and dried blood made a line down from his forehead, but he still looked like himself. Veronica let out the breath she was holding, her body still tense.  
He didn’t wait for a response, only looked back at the simple tombstone in front of them. “Old man couldn’t even spring some extra bucks for his son’s final resting place,” he let out a bitter laugh and glanced back over at Veronica. She was just staring, taking in every feature. “Oh, come on, this can’t just be a one-sided conversation,” he was looking expectant now.  


 

“I don’t know why I came here.” She sighed, pulling her knees up to her chest and hugging them tight.  


 

JD hummed before responding, “you wanted to see me, isn’t that the most obvious answer?” he was tapping his fingers on his one raised knee.  


 

Veronica let out a breath that sounded something like mocking laughter, not daring to look back at him. She had wanted to see him but even that sounded ridiculous to her so she had to laugh.  


 

“Why else would a hotshot Stanford student come to Sherwood Ohio if not to relive her dark past?” The awful truth was that he was right.  
Never would Veronica Sawyer admit that JD was right, but fuck, he was right. “There are plenty of pretentious, jacket-wearing assholes in California who haven’t murdered three people or threatened to blow up a high school.”  


 

He barked out a laugh at this and Veronica flinched at the sound. “Touché”.  


 

Her shoulders had loosened up now, not completely comfortable around him, but getting used to his presence. “I guess I wanted to see if you were finally able to stay in one place,” she said now, her eyes taking a special interest on the ground. “Too bad it had to be Ohio, but I guess this is the closest you can get to hell,” she was joking now, falling back into herself.  


 

JD shook his head, a smile playing on his lips and his eyes back on Veronica. She looked back and met his eyes for the first time in three years.

 

“Say hi to God” those were the last words she said to him, the last time she saw him alive, they were always on replay. These were the eyes that she saw in her nightmares every night. The one where she woke up screaming, the one where Westerberg was burning. These were also the eyes that reassured her years ago before everything turned to shit. The eyes that had looked at her with admiration, that made her believe he was in love with her.  
JD seemed so alive in this moment, so present. She felt for a moment as if he never died, she thought about how things could’ve been. Maybe he would have changed eventually. Maybe he would’ve been sorry. She laughed bitterly, breaking the silence that had fallen in the air.  


 

“I have spent every day trying to forget you, everything you did,” she started. She couldn’t stop the tears that welled in her eyes, at least, she didn’t try to. She shut her eyes tight and took a deep breath through her nose. “You got off easy,” a sad smile played on her lips.Something flashed across JD’s face. Remorse? Shame? She couldn’t tell. She didn’t even know if it was really him. She could be making this all up in some attempt at closure. It was dark now and the only light was coming from a flickering lamppost in the center of the small cemetery.  


 

“I’m… sorry,” he hadn’t said anything in a while, which as always strange. He sounded genuine, the same tone as when he strapped a bomb to his chest those years ago. This couldn’t change anything, of course. She would still wake up in tears, screaming. She would still freeze in fear whenever she saw someone who looked a little too much like Jason Dean. But she finally heard the words, straight from his mouth.  


 

She shook her head, pulling her knees up against her chest tighter and hugging them close. “That’s so easy to say after the fact, JD,” it’s the first time she says his name out loud in years, hearing herself say it make her stumble briefly on her words.  


 

“Well, everything did turn out better after what we did- “she opened her mouth to correct him, “What I did,” he paused before speaking again. “Clean slate, Veronica,” he made a vague gesture at his ash-covered face and bullet wound in his stomach, something he could thank Veronica for.  


 

“Your ‘Grand romantic gesture,’” she made a point of using air quotes.  


 

They laugh together quietly at this.  


 

“Perhaps not my finest moment,” he resigns and Veronica gives him a look with a raised brow.  


 

“You think?” A smirk is showing through no matter how she tries to hide it. This is how it would have been if he stayed, if he tried to fix things while he was alive.  


 

The laughter fades, leaving the sound of crickets in the sticky summer air. Veronica sighs, shifting in her spot. “It’s late,” she states the obvious, announcing the fact she should leave soon.  


 

She can see JD nod from the corner of her eye. “Did you get what you came here for?”  


 

Veronica stops to think, “Yeah,” she turns her head to him, “I think I might have,” it’s still difficult, she’ll never forget him, she might never want to; but she fells lighter.  
She stands now, dusting the dirt from the back of her pants. “Goodbye, JD,” she turns on her heel and begins walking.  


 

“Our love is God,” He says, lightness in his voice as he addresses her retreating back.  


 

She smirks, playing the words over to herself as she leaves him. No, she would never be able to ignore everything that happened. Her stomach still flipped when she thought about him, about how much she cared for him. That would never change.


End file.
